Behind the Beauty
by Mishi Tamashi
Summary: This is just a little ficcy about Poland it's sad though and showing a different side of him. It's fairly obvious what trama he's mentioning though. So please R&R and tell me what you think about it


**Behind the Beauty**

-Poland-

"Ok guys, let's take a 30 minutes break, yo!" Alfred dismissed us, I had to pee so I hopped up. I felt my miniskirt flip up at the sudden motion.

"F-feliks! Be more careful you just flashed your panties!" My best friend/errand boy/boyfriend, Toris, warned me. I giggled.

"Liet~~, like, why were you looking hmm? Geez we're totally at a meeting I totes don't, like, have the gusto to, like, deal with your perverted-ness!~" I teased, he went red in the face and looked around making sure nobody heard or was listening. Most were.

"F-feliks! D-don't kid around like that! People will get the wrong idea." He warned, I giggled and poked his nose before walking towards the door.

"It's totes fine Liet, like, fer sure~~. You totally, like worry too much." I walked out of the conference room but stood by the door.

"Dude Feliks is weird, man."

"I know what you mean…I get bloody uncomfortable when he wears stuff like that."

"Oui although…he wears those outfits fabulously, non?"

I chuckled and walked into the bathroom with my purse. Of course they always see me as happy-go-lucky, as strange, as everything under the positive sun. As I walked down the quiet hall my heel clicks went from light to heavy. It's like they think I shit rainbows and glitter, I walked into the bathroom and looked at my reflection. Blonde hair perfectly parted down the middle, large green eyes stared into themselves looking closer I spotted a gray hair within my blonde mess. Feeling myself get agitated I took a deep breath and reached into my purse before pulling out 3 small bottles. My best friends that knew the real me. For my PTSD: Mr. Paxil, for my anxiety attacks: Mrs. Klonopin, and, of course, for my bipolar disorder: Ms. Depakote…

"'Cause you're, like, totally fucking lonely aren't you?" I teased it before giggling to myself uncontrollably, I told myself to stop but it was too funny. I grabbed the sink and doubled over in a giggle fit. I had to bite my lip to stop but even then I was smiling, I bite down harder to wipe the smile off my face before facing the mirror again. I froze when the taste of blood danced on my tongue, my hands instantly touched my lip and blood boasted on the tip of my shaking finger. The blood spread from my finger to my hand and up my arm, I pulled myself up and stared into the mirror. My hair was dry and dull, my eyes tired with my eyelids surrendering to the bags beneath, and I was blood stained all over. Behind me were no longer stalls but broken down buildings and fires screaming through windows, people were lined up and being shot. The only thing I could feel was my mouth gaped and either a scream or vomit rising in my throat. My ears rang with what I've become all too familiarized with as my screech of terror, the harsh voices haunting me began to whisper in my ear and claw at my feet. With tears blinding my vision I made a mad scramble for my purse and pulled out the pistol I always carried incase….I was ever attacked again. My chest hurt as if I'd been running and my legs were sore, my breathing became ragged and labored, as I held the pistol in sweaty and shaking hands I backed against the wall of an abandoned warehouse.

"He talks like a girl…perhaps we should treat him like one." They whispered on the other side of the door, I clenched my jaw and shook my head furiously. It's not his fault! It's an accent, a slip of the tongue! The door creaked open and two huge shadows loomed on the wall to my left.

"Nie! N-nie! Nie, nie, nie, nie, nie, nie, nie…" I was shaken with sobs that crushed my chest, surely as they would try to.

-Third person-

Feliks lay on the cold tile floor shaking, tears leaked from one eye to the other then into a conjoined puddle on the floor. His eyes were wide and void as he was deep in his delusion or one of his darkest days. A gun was more-or-less loosely held with one hand. This is Polska, a beautiful, cheery country hiding scars behind make-up and a happy disposition. This is the magnificent Reviving Phoenix. Coming back is wonderful but is the memories that come back worth it? 

**A/N: Awww yeahh back in the saddle but with a sad fic…oh well it's something and uwahhhh I love Poland but…I've been itching to write this.**


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